


Between Worlds

by evening_spirit



Series: Dark 'verse [4]
Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Caitlin is a mother lioness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Marcos missing Lorna, One-sided pining, Post-Finale, Tags will be added, Thunderblink, background eclaris, more hurt than comfort actually, she won't have Andy walking out on her without consequences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-03-14 15:17:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13592820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evening_spirit/pseuds/evening_spirit
Summary: Headquarters is gone, Underground is in shambles, the Network raided, shredded, lost. How are they going to make it work now? Can they even? Each chapter is a different PoV, but the story is vaguely John-centric. Chapter Three -- Caitlin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ETA: This story is UNFINISHED and is on permanent hiatus. I didn't have the courage to follow my initial idea and the whole thing fell apart as a result. I'm sorry about it. Don't read if you don't like unresolved cliffhangers.
> 
> The story starts before the final scene of the final episode of Season One, so before Lorna and Andy left. Also, of the earlier stories in this 'verse, you should probably read [Bulletproof](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13401846), because I intend to expand on the headcanon I had there, regarding John's (lack of total) invulnerability.
> 
> I considered issuing some warnings about depressing content and dark, defeatist nature of this story. But, the story does not turn out as bleak as I initially imagined it, so...  
> Read and enjoy. ;)

_"You ever think about walking away?"_  
_"All the time."  
_ **~Clarice & John, 1x04 -  _eXit strategy_**

* * *

 

The HQ was gone.

Just gone.

The Underground was... John looked around the abandoned storehouse. Thirty people, more or less, drifted around aimlessly, sat alone or in heaps, hushed, defeated, their faces sad or scared or tired. The question, "what's gonna happen now?" repeated in nearly every whispered conversation.

The Network, the safehouses, the waystations – who knew. Most of them had been raided, people arrested or, at the very least, frightened out of helping the mutants. The Network that the X-men had been building for years – and left in John's care.

He failed.

He knew he couldn't let people see that deafeat in him now, he was still their leader – leader of whatever was left. If he gave up, if he lost his faith, they would too.

The problem was he had already lost faith. After Gus, after Sonia, his dedication had faltered. How many times he'd wanted to agree with Lorna, with the Frost sisters? To abandon his ideals and just go on the rampage, kill everyone responsible, no matter the cost.

Lorna...

Where was she now? Did she even intend to return? How was he going to keep this thing running without her? How was he going to keep it running at all?

He still had Marcos – a faint voice inside his head reminded. He had Clarice. Yeah, Clarice, what even was that? He looked down at her hand still attached to his wrist. She was pulling him toward... Oh right, the Struckers. The Underground also had the Struckers, whatever good or bad they served. Sage said that, for one, they had organized everyone, the fight, the escape. Now they attempted to settle in among old packs and rusty machine parts. With two blankets between the four of them.

When they saw Marcos, Caitlin and Reed immediately pulled him into a warm, familial embrace. Lauren came up to Clarice, timid and uncertain and – the tight warmth around John's wrist vanished – Clarice shook her head, sighed, then wrapped her arms around the girl.

John stood back for a moment there, like his tether had been cut off. He looked at Andy, thinking that maybe he should come over to the kid, thank him for saving everybody at least, but Andy had already turned away. John could hear the kid's heart hammering inside his chest, with anger, with fear, he couldn't tell. And instead of doing something about it, he just stood there, motionless, void of all energy, useless.

Shatter came up to him, then, with some question about blankets and water and distribution of what little they'd managed to salvage from the headquarters. This was at least something routine, something that he could deal with, while not emotionally invested. It got him started. He circled between the people, encouraging and uplifting words finding their way to his vocal cords without really passing through his conscious mind. Just going through the motions. He smiled here, pat some kid's mane of orange hair there. They all needed this, they needed someone to give them purpose, give them the reason to keep fighting.

"John?" he saw Clarice in front of him out of the blue.

"What is it?" he asked with a tinge of concern.

"I need you to come over there with me." She pointed at the far corner of the storehouse. He followed her not even expecting anything. Just another thing that required his attention.

But there wasn't anything, just an empty mat.

"What's the problem?" he furrowed his brow at her.

"You should lie down."

"No, I--" he wasn't really sure why he couldn't, but... there was just so much to still be done.

"Yes, John." Clarice grabbed his arm and pushed him gently but firmly closer to the improvised cot, then down until he sat on the edge. "You are exhausted."

John tried to shake his head at her, but realized he had already succumbed to her will. She fumbled with his jacked, helping him to take it off, them leaned to untie his boots. He would have protested, but somehow he didn't. She pushed him then and his back connected with the mat, dull jabs reminding him of this morning's events. Failed mission, shielding Clarice, her kiss.

He lifted his hand and touched her cheek. She was warm. Real. She pushed a strand of hair from his face, the tips of her fingers offering a gentle caress. "Sleep," she breathed out.

"You?"

"You just can't stop worrying about everybody else, can you?" her beautiful lips twisted in half-assed mockery. There was too much tenderness in her right now, to let the sass reach its full potential and John couldn't help but smile. Somehow, with her around everything was better.

Something stung at the corners of his eyes and he shut them tight quickly, so she wouldn't see. Her warm lips touched his forehead, then he felt her move around, then arrange herself next to him. They didn't have any blankets, so she covered them as well as she could with their jackets and curled around his arm. Her soft breath tickled his skin, her hair smelled of lavender and fear and fatigue, and John let one small tear escape down the side of his face.

He didn't want her to bear the burdens of this war, but he couldn't imagine himself fighting it without her anymore. He wanted to hold her, but he was afraid to crush her. Damn, hadn't that really stood between him and Sonia way back when? That he'd always had to restrain himself, watch his every move, so that he wouldn't hurt her? He'd never told her that, used some stupid excuses about their relationship standing in the way of their work or the other way around, when really... it had been this. John held his breath as he touched Clarice's hair as light as he could, like a brush of a feather. He wondered how that felt for her; wasn't he too rough? She stirred, so he quickly took his hand back.

What if he told her about this fear? Wouldn't she think it was stupid? No. Better not. Better shake it off and focus on work.

Would Clarice be persistent, as Sonia had been, about wanting to be close to him? She had a different character, maybe her pride would win sooner. He really didn't want to resent Clarice for trying and being rejected over and over again, the way he had Sonia. He hadn't wanted to resent Sonia either. He just wanted to be able to love someone without being afraid of hurting them.

t.b.c.


	2. Chapter 2

Not many people slept that night and Marcos certainly wasn't one of them. He wasn't turning from side to side either -- oh no, that would give him too much time to think about Lorna, about his pleas to her and about her desperate, "I care about my family too," as if his and hers weren't one and the same. About the plane with one bad guy and a few innocent bystanders exploding mid-air.

Did Campbell deserve to die? Perhaps. It wasn't theirs to decide anyways. Maybe Montez deserved it too. But those other people, the pilot, the stewardesses, the Senator's aides…

No. Marcos deliberately decided to check with as many people gathered in the old storehouse, as possible, to avoid thinking about that. To avoid hoping Lorna would show up, repentant and apologetic. He would have forgiven her in an instant. He would take her back no questions asked. But, something inside him knew it was not gonna happen. Lorna changing a decision once made was as unlikely, as a Solar Eclipse during Full Moon.

Marcos talked to the Struckers for quite a while after he and John and Clarice had returned. Caitlin was quickly becoming his best friend and a mentor of sorts, even Reed seemed much more involved than before. He'd begun to change after finding out the truth about his father. And himself. He'd begun to think more like a mutant -- that he apparently was, by laws of genetics. Marcos wondered -- as Reed must have -- what kind of a mutant he would be, had he not been meddled with. One thing was certain, he would be very powerful and sometimes that power shone through, even without any special abilities. It was there, in the man's eyes.

In those moments, brief though they were, Marcos was scared of Reed.

The others didn't seem to be.

"I knew he was a good man," said the small woman whose sleeping six-years-old daughter clung to her side. She caught Marcos staring back at Reed and now she smiled a sad, but fond smile. "We've met before, you know. He was on the transport with me and Niki when he said he was being tracked and followed by Sentinel Services and then he jumped out of a running vehicle to give us a fighting chance. He knew he would be punished and yet, he sacrificed himself for us."

Marcos nodded. That story, strangely, made sense.

"But I knew it even before," the woman added. "I knew it when I took his pain. See, I'm not a healer, but I can take away someone's pain. And with it, a little bit of knowledge about their soul."

"What is your name?"

"Sheila."

"Get some rest Sheila." Marcos squeezed her shoulder. "We all need it."

"You do too." She tried to reach out and touch him, but Marcos wriggled away. He needed his pain to remind him what he fought for. He needed it to stay alert.

Someone else could use this woman's skill, a lot of people in fact. He heard muffled sobbing, people confiding in each other in whispers. John's familiar silhouette hovered over a group of teenagers -- Marcos recognized Naya and Skyler. They looked tired, but contrary to most – excited. They were telling John about the fight for the Headquarters; Marcos may have come near enough to overhear a couple of sentences. In the process he managed a glimpse of John's face. John tried to be attentive, but shadows under his eyes were more pronounced than ever and he swayed on his feet. The strongest man alive -- weak and tired? That was... unexpected.

Marcos needed John strong and rested. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would go out to search for Lorna and he needed Thunderbird's specific skills at his side. John would want to go, of that Marcos was certain, but he would have to be in a much better shape. Marcos didn't think about Sheila in that moment -- John was just like Marcos, he'd never admit to feeling any pain -- but he thought about Clarice. Something was starting between those two and she might be the only one John would listen to.

Having ensured his best asset for tomorrow would be efficient, Marcos continued his trek through the remnants of their Underground. Then, once everyone was asleep, he spent an hour or two keeping watch with Pedro and then with Simon. As he went inside, he saw Clarice again, trying to quieten down a small teenage girl with bluish tinge on her face. He'd seen those two together on quite a few occasions already. Clarice must have taken a liking to the youngster, perhaps she reminded her of some sister or a friend she'd lost. They all needed people like that in their lives, people to care about.

Too bad Marcos only cared about Lorna.

As the night bagun to turn into day, people started waking up -- those who fell asleep the earliest or those who couldn't sleep more than a couple of hours. John was on his feet earlier than Marcos would like -- he sighed and came up to the man.

"Do we have a plan?" he asked. John just gave him a look. "Because I thought maybe we should, I don't know, encourage those people to… Just stay together and maybe begin to rebuild something."

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

"But we also have to find Lorna."

"Yeah."

"So. How do you suggest we do that?"

John rubbed his eyes. "Do you..." he started, slowly. "Do you want me..."

"Yeah," Marcos cut in. "I want you to come with me, but you're needed here too, and you can't be in two places at once. Unless someone will take care of matters here, while you-- Why do you shake your head?"

"I can't leave. Not now."

"Then how are you going to help me search for Lorna?"

John rubbed his eyes again. "Do we have to talk about it now?"

Marcos rolled his eyes and looked around. People were starting to get restless and arguments were about to erupt here and there. Trader and Shatter were in a heated discussion and would require someone to separate them soon.

"I think we have to do more than just talking," he told John in an ominous voice.

John stood up and sagged immediately, "Damn…"

"Don't worry," Marcos patted his arm, "I'll do the talking and you just sit and nod with a wise expression on your face." Wasn't that what they'd always done anyway?

They would have done the same now. John barely opened his mouth and Marcos spoke. He spoke about unity, about how Underground was about people not places and that they were people and they would rebuild, they would. The others disagreed, of course, but he had the backing of Caitlin and Reed and, well, John was nodding.

Except that at the height of the discussion Lorna came and turned his words into nothing.

She said sacrifice was a lie, that they needed to build a new world and she was here to build it and then… Then she and that smug telepath said that those they came for knew who they were and some of the most important people of the Underground had left with them.

Marcos didn't even fight her, not like he should have.

All he could remember himself saying was "That baby is ours".

He didn't find his voice to protest her truisms and banals. He didn't find his voice when she stole their people either. He watched her walk away, watched her climb up the stairs, open the door and walk out and he said... nothing.

No one said nothing.

Only after a stretch of this deafening silence, John's voice woke them up.

"We'll get through it," he spoke, faint and uncertain, then, "As Marcos said, we will rebuild. The Network, the Headquarters." Strength in his voice was growing with each word, until it became steel determination. "All of us -- those who stayed. I want to say, thank you. Thank you for still believing in this, in our chance to do good, to help people. That's what we're here for. And also, I want to say I'm sorry to all of you who expected to find new places to live, to be shipped out somewhere safe. You will have to stay with us a little longer. We count on you to help us, actually, to join this effort. And I hope we will be able to find safety for everyone, eventually."

This must have been the most he'd ever said to their people in as long as Marcos did know him. He paused when he turned toward Marcos and their eyes met, but he knew this time, he had to give even more; Marcos was lost, so lost he refused to even think about what had happened. Instead he focused on John's voice and maybe that's what it served more than anything else, this whole speach. To give people something to focus on, instead of wondering what had just transpired.

"Now, we need to survive the next few days." John tore his eyes away from Marcos's and took in a breath. "I need sentries to stake out the area," he said looking for Pedro. Marcos wasn't sure the man was still around, but – yes, he was. He nodded at John and John issued his orders. "Organize your people, find out who's still with us, break them into teams, make a plan of watches." Pedro nodded again with a small knowing smile. Right, "You know the drill. First send them out, then bring me your new schedule. Go."

Pedro nodded at a couple of men and moved away.

"Now, we need supplies. Food, water, blankets. Anything that was salvaged from the old headquarters." Shatter, the void by his side left by Sage even more depressing, opened his mouth to speak, but John lifted his hand and silenced him. "Take care of that. I want to see the inventory once you're done. Also, make sure to see who is in need of what, while you're at it. I want to know that too. All but the most urgent redistribution goes through me."

"Will do." Shatter nodded.

John was already on another item on his mental list. "I need a few of you who can pass for humans. No, not you," he shook his head at Caitlin Strucker, "you're too recognizable and you are wanted. I need someone anonymous."

A few youngsters raised their hands.

"Marcos?" John finally turned to him. "We need to find a place that could work as temporary Headquarters. This here, it won't stand more than a couple of days. Will you take care of that?"

So, no searching for Lorna. Oh, wait, she found herself and then disappeared again, only she knew where. Of course they weren't going to follow her and beg for her to return. They were enemies now.

"Sure." Marcos knew his duty. He wasn't going to fail John and the Underground the way Lorna did.

He scrutinized the youngsters in front of him. Naya and Skyler he knew, he'd have to get to know the rest.

"Find whoever else can help," John added. "I'll join in too, whenever I can."

He beckoned for the youngsters to follow him while John turned toward the Struckers, "Caitlin? I have a job for you."

"All I care about is finding my son," Caitlin declared in a way that did not permit any objection.

Marcos stopped and looked back at her. Something glimmered in his chest, some treacherous voice whispered, maybe there's still a chance. A chance to find Lorna, to be together, to... what? Be together as what? If they were to be together, he'd have to forget his ideals, because there was no way Lorna would forget hers. Caitlin had much better chance fighting for Andy.

If it wasn't for John.

When she tried to speak again, he simply spoke over her, louder. "We have to set up some sort of ambulatory," he issued an order. "Check with Shatter about any medical supplies we have."

Caitlin wanted to speak up again, but this time John ignored her. Spoke over her again, but not to her anymore.

"Everyone else, who does not have any assigned duties, including anyone who was waiting for a safe passage out of the country -- I am sorry, again, that it will not be possible for now --we need you. So, however you may help, it will be greatly appreciated. Clarice, will you take care of that? Thank you. Anyone who has any ideas on how they may contribute, please come to Clarice. We'll work from there."

And that was it, that's where he finished the meeting. Marcos contemplated for a brief moment going over to Caitlin and offering his help, but then he thought that acting against John really wasn't the best thing he could do right now. They needed to be of one mind, especially in front of everybody else. It was the only way they could make it, until some unspecified tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheee! Looks like I got over writer's block. (maybe, let's not celebrate yet ;)

Caitlin wanted to get her son back. That was all. She wanted Andy back and she didn't care about anything else. Being humiliated by John in front of everybody included. Or even her own anger at him. John was still her best chance at finding Andy and she would talk and prod and ask and beg if she had to, for as long as it took for him to aid her in this task. She would start with putting some pressure though. With blackmail if that’s what was necessary.

Set up some ambulatory, he told her? Ambulatory my ass, it could wait. He gave orders and left and Caitlin, without much deliberation, followed him outside.

She found him leaning against the wall at the side of the building.

“John!” she called and he shot straight up, like she caught him doing something offensive, something nasty. Good, she filed it for later, for when she needed to threaten him with, like, revealing his secret that he was… what?... slouching? Oh, nevermind. “What are we going to do about Andy and Lorna?” she asked, because that was what she came here to talk about. “And Sage and… everybody else?”

John glared at her with eyes as dark as circles around them, “What can we do?” he shrugged.

He didn’t know. Of course he didn’t know! Apparently that was not one of his many worries.

But it was hers. “Follow them?” she spread her hands and stepped into his personal space. “I don’t know, try and find them, get them to come back.” No, she didn’t have a clear plan either. Then again, she was not a mutant, she didn’t have any special ability, like tracking lost people for example. She didn’t even have any detective skills. All she could do was count on others and on their good will to help. They had to help, Thunderbird had to…

“It was their decision,” he refused.

“Their decision?” Caitlin gasped. “How was it their… Well, maybe Sage. Maybe Fade or… But not Andy. No!” Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. Nonononono, she wasn’t going to cry, not in front of him.

He must have noticed anyway, because he sighed and turned fully to her, offering his attention and compassion.

“How old is he?” he asked in an empathetic voice. She looked up and saw that his eyes were warm, genuine.

“Fifteen,” she sniffed.

"It's not like we can call the police,” John rubbed his forehead, “or social services and have them bring him home. This, those people in there,” pointed at the building, “that is all we have."

"So we have to," Caitlin’s shoulders came up to her ears on their own volition, she spread her hands, shook her head. "We have to use them, utilize them. Do something. John, you gave all those people tasks. Security, supplies, whatnot. Why not have someone find out where they went, where they are and... Just find them."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "First we have to secure the base of operations," said in a quiet voice, like he had no strength for anything louder than that. He looked exhausted, Caitlin realized. It was morning and he already looked exhausted. She should have stopped then, a part of her thought, but that other part, the Mother in her was stronger. She kept on pushing.

"Why not do this and that at the same time? Why, John?" Pushing harder even than before. "You had me in charge of the ambulatory here. And let me tell you right now, that I'll do it, but under condition that someone else is out there searching for my son."

John blinked at her, surprised.

"Caitlin, we..."

She didn’t let him finish.

"No!" Put a hand against his chest as if she could physically stop him. "I mean it. Because I can do it, you know. I can take Reed and I can take Lauren and we'll go. We'll search for Andy ourselves if there's no other way."

"You'll be recognized."

"I don't care! He's my son. I won't abandon my son. There's nothing more important than that!"

"Caitlin?" Reed's voice cut into her tirade.

She let go of John. She turned away and took a few steps toward that voice.

"Reed!" she called and as soon as he came from around the corner she pulled at his sleeve. "Come here, tell him, please, tell him that we're not going to give up on Andy, that it's not like a teenager can make his own decisions, like he was an adult..." She looked back and John and…

She stopped speaking.

John was bent forward, hands on his knees and he shook, trembled like a leaf on the wind. He made a guttural sound, something between a sob and a scream and then gagged and his knees buckled under him.

"Reed!" Caitlin called, even though she felt her husband’s presence right behind her. "Reed, I need your help." Then she turned to John. "What is the matter with you?" She berated herself internally for ignoring all the signals. He was obviously not feeling well while they talked. When she touched him, his skin burned.  

She had no idea he could even get sick at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed, please, let me know. :)


End file.
